Feet of Clay
by lunarmoth131
Summary: Sequel to "I'm Not Sorry" and "Resolution." Abby finally confronts Gibbs about her suppressed feelings. Tony and Ziva are having relationship problems of their own. Gabby, Tiva.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Feet of Clay (1)

Rating: T

Pairing: Gabby

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with NCIS.

A/N: This is a sequel to "I'm Not Sorry" and "Resolution" and occurs about 2 months after Jackson's birth. Abby finally confronts Gibbs with the feelings she suppressed.

Abby had a worried look as she swiftly moved to change the baby's diaper. He had been crying more than usual lately, and she wondered if there was some problem related to his premature birth. Jackson had been born 12 weeks early; he had done well so far, for his developmental age, but still, it was impossible to predict what could happen during a preemie's first year.

"It's okay, Jackie, Mama's got you all clean now," she soothed, picking him up to rock him in her arms. He began to scream more loudly, so she grabbed a blanket nearby and swaddled him tightly. She sang to him, pushed him in the stroller, played his favorite music, checked his diaper again and even offered him a bottle. Nothing worked.

Finally she laid him in his crib, frustrated, trying to think of some way to get him to calm down. "Jackson, sweetie, please stop crying! Please – for Mommy?"

His eyes wandered a bit then locked onto hers, and the crying subsided slightly. Abby was just about to let out a sigh of relief when Jackson took a deep breath and began to wail loud enough to be heard all the way in the basement.

Without thinking, Abby grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him as hard as she could. "Stop it!" she yelled, hysterically. "I said stop! Stop it!"

Jackson coughed twice then went back to wailing, but the interruption was enough to bring Abby back to herself. She released his shoulders and stared at her hands as if they were someone else's. "Oh my God," she breathed. "Oh my God. What have I done? Jackson, baby, I'm so sorry! Mommy's sorry for hurting you like that!"

She started to pick him up and try again to soothe him, but something told her not to. Instead, she left him crying in his crib and ran downstairs. "Jethro?" she called.

"Down here," he replied from the basement.

She stood at the top of the steps, looking down at Gibbs who was working to complete his boat. She tried not to let him see that she was shaking like the fragile wing of a butterfly. "Jethro, I need to go out. My friend, um, Tika called and she needs my help right away. Car trouble," she added, inventing something on the spot.

"Sure," he replied, setting down his tools and switching off the television. "I'll be right up."

Abby felt a bit relieved but not much. She returned to the nursery where Jackson, red-faced, was still howling like a banshee. A panicked thought struck her – did she hurt him? She knew that shake-the-baby syndrome usually developed over time, not with a single incident, but still, she could have broken his neck or damaged his spinal cord.

Gibbs walked into the room. Trying to keep her voice from trembling, Abby said, "Jethro, I think we should take him to the hospital."

Giving her an odd look, he picked up the infant, holding Jackson close to his chest. Almost immediately the crying slowed and his breathing began to even out, punctuated by the occasional sniffle.

Abby slowly began to breathe again herself. "Never mind. I thought something was wrong because he wouldn't stop crying." She fidgeted a moment, an uncertain expression on her face, then said, "I guess I'll go give Tika a hand now."

Gibbs nodded and gave her a kiss. "See you soon." As she started to leave, he added, "Abbs – anytime you need help with Jackie, just say so. I'm his dad, you know. We're a team. This is not some '50's sitcom."

Abby had to giggle, looking down at her attire. She wore a tank top that proclaimed "Poisoned apple" in bright red letters, and a short black skirt, along with a silver spider necklace that fell almost to her cleavage. Definitely not '50's sitcom appropriate!

She turned back to kiss him again. "Thanks, my fox. Love you."

"Love you more, Abbs."

****

Once she was in her car, Abby allowed herself to recall what it was that made her flee the house so quickly. _'I hurt my son,'_ she thought despondently, dropping her head into her hands. _'How can I be a good mother to Jackson if I hurt him?'_

She started the car and began to drive, not sure where she might be going. She simply knew that she had to get away for awhile and determine what to do next.

When she found herself headed for Reston, Virginia, she realized that her unconscious mind knew what it was doing. _'I'd better call first,'_ she decided, pulling off at a convenience store.

The number was third on her speed dial, after 911 and Gibbs' cell. "Mallard residence," came the Scottish-accented response.

"Ducky! I need to talk to you. It's urgent. Can I come over?" She tried to sound as cheerful as possible, but the good doctor had known her long enough to recognize nuances in her voice that most others could not.

"Of course, my dear, you're always welcome," he replied. "Is something wrong?"

Abby hesitated. She couldn't possibly explain over the phone; she wouldn't be able to finish the drive. "I'll tell you when I get there," she promised.

'_Oh, dear,'_ Dr. Mallard thought. He had been expecting a crisis to arise soon. "Very well, I will see you shortly, Abigail."

"Thanks, Ducky." She closed her phone and groaned inwardly. Would the problems never end?


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Feet of Clay (2)

Rating: T

Pairing: Gabby

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with NCIS.

A/N: Thanks for all the positive reviews! This is another short chapter. I'll try to make them get longer!

Abby was feeling morose by the time she drove into the Mallard driveway. Ducky was waiting for her, and opened the door before she even climbed out of her car. She smiled wanly before hugging him tightly. "Ducky, I'm having a very bad day," she sighed.

He ushered Abby into the den, where she found a comfortable sofa and he poured drinks for both of them. He sat down in his leather chair, after handing Abby her drink, and asked, "What did Jethro do?"

She stared for a moment at the amber liquid, apparently unseeing and unhearing. Then she turned to him with a start. "What did you say, Ducky?"

"I asked, what did Jethro do?" He smiled slightly at her over his glass.

"Nothing. He didn't do anything."

"Is that the problem?"

"No, no, it has nothing to do with him! It has to do with me. How I'm a bad mother." Abby stood and began to pace, twisting her hands as she forced the words out. "I hurt Jackson. I shook him. I was so angry, Ducky, I lost control. I'm not safe to be around my own child!"

'_She's almost hysterical,'_ Ducky thought, as he stood and put his arms around her to comfort her. She cried on his shoulder for the next five minutes, and when she finally raised her head, he handed her his handkerchief.

"Ducky, you still use handkerchiefs?" she asked, trying to smile but failing.

"When I'm feeling traditional, yes," he replied. She returned to her place on the sofa and he sat beside her, taking her hands in his. "Now tell me, dear, what happened?"

Abby quickly explained the incident that had been tormenting her. "I'm scared, Ducky. I can't be alone with Jackie. What if I do it again? What if I do something worse?"

Dr. Mallard took a deep breath before answering. "Abby, can you think of any reason you would feel extreme anger at someone – anger that you might displace onto Jackson?

Abby's eyes were wide. "No, Ducky. I don't know what you mean. Why would I do that?"

"You went through a very traumatic event. It would be completely natural to feel angry about it." Ducky hoped she would recognize what he was talking about; if he had to spell it out, she would probably refuse to acknowledge her feelings.

"What event?" she asked, looking even more confused.

"You were raped." He held her eyes with his, not letting her look away.

"No, not really," she murmured, lowering her gaze.

He raised her chin with one finger, bringing her eyes back to his. "Abigail," he commanded. "Listen to what I say. You were raped. You were violated. Jackson would not even be here if that had not happened. It's understandable that you would take the anger you feel towards Jethro and place it on his child."

"But I love him. Them. I love both of them," she whispered.

"Love and anger, even hatred, are not mutually exclusive, my dear." He smiled at her reassuringly, while inside he knew this was a crucial moment – would she accept what he was saying, even just a little? The smallest admission of her true feelings would serve to open the door to healing.

Abby stared at him, barely breathing, a single tear forming at the corner of one eye. Then she sat up straighter and said firmly, "No, you're wrong, Ducky. I've forgiven Jethro. I'm not angry."

Dr. Mallard tried not to make his disappointment evident. Instead, he patted her hand and stood up. "Very well, my dear. Would you like a cup of tea? We'll talk about some ways to help you cope with your baby without losing your temper, shall we?"

****

Back at home, Gibbs gave Jackson a bottle and burped him, which of course meant that almost as much came back out as went in. Fortunately he had a burp cloth over his shoulder, but the baby's clothes were soaked. As he carefully removed them, he noticed two red spots, one on each side of Jackson's chest. He had been at NCIS long enough to know a fingerprint when he saw one – but what could it mean?

With a sudden chill, he decided to examine Jackson's back. When he saw the four marks on each shoulder, he realized what he was looking at and his head began to spin. 'It can't be – it just can't be,' he thought frantically. Then he remembered the look on Abby's face when she stood at the top of the steps.

"_Jethro, I need to go out," she had said. "It's urgent."_

_When he met her upstairs, the baby was crying and Abby was panic-stricken. "I think we should take him to the hospital," she said._

"She shook him," Gibbs said aloud, barely able to believe his own words. It felt like he was caught in some dreadful nightmare in which other people were not acting normally. Abby always seemed solid as a rock – well, except for the times she fell apart.

Looking down at the wriggling baby, he knew he had to focus. Right now he had a child to care for. He finished dressing Jackson, then sat down to rock him. The infant was soon asleep, and Gibbs laid him in his crib on his back, turning on the automatic rocking motion. Jackie seemed no worse off; he hadn't cried any more than usual since Abby had left.

He made sure the baby monitor was working, then pulled out his phone and dialed Abby's number. But before he pressed the green button, he thought better of it, and called Ducky instead. He knew Ducky's house was the most likely place for Abby to be; second place was Jen's house.

"Mallard residence."

"Duck, is Abby there? If so, don't let her know it's me calling."

"Yes, yes, I remember you, Mrs. Perkins. How are you?"

"I know about what happened with Jackson. Did Abby tell you?"

"Why, how did you guess, Mrs. Perkins? Mother asked about you just yesterday."

"Good, I'm glad she came to you. Give me a call later, Duck." Gibbs hung up.

"What was that?" Ducky continued the ruse. "Oh, I see. Well, I hope you do get a chance to stop by, it would be lovely to see you. I'll give her your message. Goodbye." He hung up the phone and looked up at Abby, who was sipping her tea and petting one of the Corgis. "Now, my dear, where were we?"


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Feet of Clay (3)

Rating: T

Pairing: Gabby

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with NCIS.

A/N: I'll warn you, this is not a happy Gabby chapter. But it does give additional meaning to the story's title.

Abby hesitated for a moment, then resolutely opened the door and walked into the kitchen, setting her bag on the table.

She heard a noise behind her. "How was Tika?" The irony was evident in the quiet voice, and she immediately realized that he knew the truth. "Did Ducky tell you?" she asked, without turning around. "He said he would let me tell."

"No, Abby, I figured it out all by myself when I saw the bruises you left on Jackie's shoulders!" He grabbed her roughly and turned her to face him. "What the hell were you thinking, Abbs? He's not one of your stuffed toys that you can throw around and squeeze whenever you feel like it! He's a baby, and a _premature_ baby, which means he isn't even as strong as a normal baby. What you did was wrong!" He was yelling at her by the end of this speech.

Abby gazed at him defiantly. "Do you think I don't know that, Gibbs? Why do you think I left so fast? I couldn't let myself be around him anymore. I had to get away."

"Were you even going to tell me?" Gibbs demanded, moving closer until they were almost nose to nose. Abby wanted to take a step back, because being that close to an angry Gibbs was not a fun experience. But she had never let him intimidate her in the past, and she didn't intend to start now.

"Yes, I said so a minute ago. I said that Ducky agreed to let me tell you." She moved past him and into the living room, trying to remember the reasonable words she had carefully planned out while driving home.

"Abby, we need to talk about this," Gibbs said, forcing his voice to become somewhat calmer.

"Yes, we do. Ducky and I made some plans to keep Jackson safe."

"I know that; I talked to him."

"What?" She stared at him, sinking to the couch. "Did he call you?"

"No, I called him after I saw the bruises. I thought you might be at his house and you were." Gibbs sat down at the other end of the couch.

"Well, okay then. So you know how it will be. I'm going back to work; Jackson will go to the NCIS child care facility. That way I can visit him during the day but there will always be other people."

"And we'll get a nanny for nighttime," Gibbs added.

"Right, except if we're both working he can stay at child care. And I'm going to that Parents Anonymous group, or whatever it's called." She made a face. "I don't want to, but Ducky thinks it's important. And besides, I'm doing it for Jackie's sake."

Gibbs stood up and paced a bit, then turned to face her again. "What I don't understand, Abby, is why? Why would you do such a thing? Can't you control your temper?"

"As if you have room to talk, Gibbs!" she snapped defensively. "The only person I know with a worse temper than you is Ziva. Well, a more dangerous temper anyway."

"I don't vent my anger on innocent children, Abbs!"

She jumped up and almost smacked him, just barely restraining herself. "You bastard! How dare you!"

"I'm just telling the truth, Abby, because that's exactly what you did. You got frustrated and angry and Jackson had to suffer the consequences. Shannon would have NEVER done that to Kelly!"

Abby jerked backwards as if he had physically struck her. The comparison to Shannon stung; she already felt bad enough, and this was the final blow.

She looked down at her feet and her body seemed to fold into itself, becoming somehow smaller. She bit her lower lip, then replied softly, "I'm not Shannon, and I never will be." Then she brushed past him and went upstairs to get ready for bed.

****

Gibbs followed in a few minutes, unwilling for Abby to be upstairs alone with the baby. He expected she would still be getting ready, but didn't see her anywhere. Finally he decided to check the guest room where they had placed her coffin. She hadn't used it in a long time, but now he saw she was curled up inside, dressed in a solid black cotton nightgown.

He sighed, and realized with surprise that she hadn't even taken Bert to keep her company. He went into the nursery and picked up the beloved hippo, then placed him carefully at Abby's side. He knew he had hurt her deeply, maybe too deeply.

Hoping the next day would be better, he leaned over and kissed her cheek, like he did in the old days. "Sleep well," he whispered.

A/N2: Next chapter – apologies, arrangements, and more Ducky!


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Feet of Clay (4)

Rating: T

Pairing: Gabby

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with NCIS.

A/N: Thank you for the reviews!

Abby woke to the sound of a baby crying, and since she wasn't used to sleeping in the coffin, for a moment she was disoriented. 'Why is there a baby crying?' she thought, sitting up. 'Is it the neighbors'?' She climbed out, feeling confused, and went in search of the sound. The shapes she could see in the dim light reminded her of where she was, and she realized it was _her_ child.

Walking to the nursery, she saw that Jethro had already picked up Jackson and was preparing a bottle for him. Her heart sank; would she never be allowed to touch her son again?

Jethro turned and saw her standing in the doorway, and wordlessly came to her, handing over Jackson. With a half-smile, he said, "I think he wants his mommy."

She smiled back, cradling the infant close to her heart. "Shh, sweetie, it's all right," she whispered. "You can have your milk soon. Daddy's making it right now." She gently raised and lowered him; they had found that the up-and-down movement would soothe him momentarily when he was hungry.

Gibbs finished quickly, and placing his hand at the small of her back, he led her to their bedroom. "Let's lie down and cuddle while you feed him," he suggested.

"You don't trust me," she said, some bitterness creeping in.

"I do trust you," he replied quietly. "But I want to be close to you. I don't like sleeping by myself anymore; I like having you with me. I missed you earlier."

"Oh," she said, handing the baby to him so she could get comfortable on the bed. "I missed you, too."

She sat leaning against his chest, so that he could wrap his arms around both her and Jackson at the same time. Except for the occasional frustrated whimper when he couldn't get enough milk, the baby was calm and contented.

Abby was the first to speak. "I'm sorry, Jethro."

"For what?"

"For everything."

"That would be fine if everything was your fault," he replied, laying his head against hers, "but it wasn't. Most of it was mine. I'm sorry, Abbs."

She giggled. "You know, Gibbs, for someone who doesn't believe in apologizing, you've started doing it rather regularly."

"So I have. But don't tell anyone else; you'll ruin my reputation."

"Of course not." She turned her head just enough to kiss his cheek. "Thank you though. It really did hurt, what you said."

"I know. I had trouble sleeping; I kept imagining that she was scolding me for treating you that way."

"Who?" Abby asked curiously. She lifted the baby onto her shoulder and gently patted his back.

"Shannon, of course."

"Really." Abby pondered this idea. "So you think she's okay with me and you?"

"More than okay. And I don't think it, I know it."

Abby was silent for a moment, then she laughed. "Jethro Gibbs, I never would have thought you'd believe in ghosts."

"I didn't say I did," he tried to defend himself. Then he held her tighter and kissed the top of her head. "Well, maybe that's another thing you can keep to yourself."

At that moment, Jackson let out a loud burp, and they both laughed, happy that, at least for the time being, everything was okay again.

****

The next morning, Gibbs called in that he would be a bit late, to allow them time to get the baby ready. Abby had to admit that she was glad to return to work; she could amuse herself at home in many ways, but she really did love her job, and she had missed her mechanical "babies" terribly.

She was reacquainting herself with her machines (and admiring the new GC-IR system that her old boyfriend, Marty, had sent for Jackson's birth) when Ducky entered. "Ah, Abigail, it's wonderful to see you back here!" he exclaimed.

"You, too, Ducky!" she ran to him and gave him one of her trademark "flying hugs", almost knocking him over. "Have you seen Jackson?"

"Yes, I just came from the nursery. He's growing quickly, isn't he?"

"Yeah, you wouldn't think your arms would get tired holding five pounds, would you – but if you hold that five pounds all day long, different story. Anyway, did you notice the cameras when you were down there? I can watch Jackie from here! And I can even talk to him, just like I talk to you when you're in Autopsy!" She pointed out her new monitor, which showed a continuous feed of the nursery, as well as the intercom that was labeled "Jackie."

Ducky was surprised, but pleased. "This is wonderful, Abby. It's the next thing to having him here with you."

"Right! I love it. And thank you for your suggestions, Duck man; you really helped me a lot."

He reached over and took her ring-covered hand, then slowly kissed it. "A pleasure, my dear." He started to release her hand, but she wouldn't let him.

"Ummm…. Ducky?"

"Yes, Abigail?"

"What you said yesterday… I think I know what you meant."

"Oh?" He gazed at her intently, trying not to hope too much.

"Yeah. I _am_ mad. I…" Her eyes slid to the side, avoiding contact with his. "I didn't want to be mad. I didn't want him to feel guilty. But I can't help it. Ducky, what will happen if I tell him? He doesn't seem to handle guilt very well and I don't want to push it. I'm afraid."

He beckoned her closer for another hug and she laid her head on his shoulder. He thought for a long moment, unsure of what to say.

Finally she raised her head and he could see the tears threatening to spill out. "Abby, you must tell him," he said firmly. "I can't promise you that he will handle it well, but I _can_ promise you that if you keep pretending you don't feel it, there will be more trouble. If you want to stay together, the two of you will have to work through this issue completely."

"Yes," she agreed softly. "I know."


	5. Chapter 5

The "catch of the day" was the burglary of a Navy recruiting station; Gibbs' team was sent to process the scene and gather witness statements. By the end of the day they had a good idea who the culprits were – a local gang of computer geeks (to McGee's great chagrin) who were under the mistaken impression that the recruiter's computer would give them access to Navy secrets.

After interrogating two of the suspects, Gibbs returned to the squad room to find a large brown paper envelope on top of his desk. He turned it over, examining it for name or other identification, but found nothing. "What is this?" he asked.

McGee and Ziva were at their desks completing paperwork concerning the case. McGee looked up briefly, said "I don't know, boss" and looked back at his computer. He seemed preoccupied.

Ziva also turned to Gibbs. "I did not see anyone place it there. Do you think it is safe to open it?"

He shook it, then decided to open it carefully. Inside was a single sheet of paper with the following information:

Couples Communication Weekend

Increase intimacy with your partner!

Enjoy a weekend adventure in the Poconos while you learn

Communication techniques through group and couple's sessions.

Activities include:

Group recreation

Personalized relationship advice

Discussion groups

Lectures

Opportunity to practice healthy communication

Compatability testing (optional)

Accompanying workbook

Gibbs groaned inwardly. "If one of you put this up here," he growled, "start looking for a new job now."

"Put what where?" McGee asked, clueless.

Gibbs looked skeptically at the confused expressions on their faces, but could find no evidence of deception. "Never mind." He put the paper back in its envelope and stomped off towards the elevator.

Dr. Mallard was not surprised when the elevator opened to reveal his old friend. "Hello, Jethro," he said, indicating to Palmer that he should put away the body they had been examining. "Questions about the case? I wasn't really involved, you know.

In a low voice, Gibbs asked, "What's this, Duck?" as he held up the brown envelope.

"What do you suppose it is? A suggestion from a friend, Jethro. I think you and Abby might benefit greatly if you attend."

Gibbs looked appalled. "A shrink weekend? You're not serious."

"Ah, but I am!" Ducky smiled. "And it's not a 'shrink weekend' as you so uncharitably describe it. It is a way to find out what is behing the trouble Abigail is having, and hopefully to solve it."

"But why do I have to be a part of it?"

Ducky gazed solemnly at Gibbs. "Are you serious about your relationship with Abby? Do you want it to last?"

"You know I do, Duck."

"Then it is my understand that when one member of a team has a problem, the whole team has a problem. You and Abigail are a team, and she has a problem. Your part is clear."

Gibbs started to argue, then thought better of it, remembering his Marine training. It was a cardinal rule that you don't abandon your buddy. He and Abby were a team closer than any he had ever been in before, and he could not abandon her, leaving her to deal with her problems on her own. Not even if he found the process distasteful.

He nodded, then turned to leave. "Give Abigail my love!" Ducky called behind him.

Abby was in the nursery, holding Jackson as she sat in a group of 2-year-olds having storytime. She held the baby so he could see the pictures, even though the logical part of her brain reminded her that his eyes could barely track.

When the story reached its exciting ending – the caterpillar became a butterfly – she squealed along with the children. They all crowded around her, wanting to see and touch the baby, but Mr. Meadows (their teacher) managed to catch them and sanitized their hands just in time. Gibbs watched from the observation window as Abby laughed and talked to the kids, answering their questions and telling them how Jackson was born early and that's why he was so small. A mixture of love and happiness surged through his heart and mind as he realized that she was a natural with children.

If she could just get past this one problem.

Finally Abby stood and said goodbye to the children and their teacher. She spotted Gibbs as she stepped out of the room. "Look, there's Daddy!" she crooned to the infant cradled in her arms.

Gibbs walked towards them slowly, smiling at the picture they made. Abby was dressed in black jeans with chains, a black and red T-shirt, and striped arm bands, while Jackson wore a red and black onesie and was wrapped in a white blanket with a black skull print.

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

In answer, he wrapped his arms around both of them, wishing he could hold onto them forever. "I saw you in there," he whispered. "You're wonderful with kids."

"That's sweet of you," she said, rather uncertainly. "How was your day?"

"Amusing," he replied drily. Releasing her with his left arm, he led her towards the infant room. "How would you like a vacation, Abs?"

She stopped and turned to him, frowning. "What _kind_ of vacation, Gibbs?" she asked suspiciously.

"A fun and educational one, for both of us, in the Poconos."

She relaxed visibly when he said "both of us." "Oooh, educational! How so?"

Gibbs took Jackson from Abby and handed her the brown envelope. "Look inside."

Abby pulled out the sheet of paper and stared at it in disbelief, half-aware that Gibbs left to retrieve Jackson's _Nightmare Before Christmas_ diaper bag while she stood there in the hall. He had returned to her side by the time she spoke.

"You would do this – for me?" she breathed, her eyes wide with wonder.

Gibbs nodded and smiled.

She returned the smile, and its brilliance dazzled him. "Jethro, I love you so much! When can we go?"


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Feet of Clay (6)

Rating: T

Pairing: Gabby (and now Tiva)

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with NCIS

A/N: 'Achmed the Dead Terrorist' is a video on YouTube by Jeff Dunham.

A/N 2: This is now a collaboration between lunarmoth131 and lunarcaterpillar. I guess my daughter just can't keep her hands out of my stories! LOL

A/N 3: Lunarcaterpillar would just like to point out that the invasion was _invited_.

********************

It was Friday afternoon. Ziva was parked in front of Tony's apartment, honking impatiently every few minutes. Finally, he came out, carrying a large purple duffle bag. She pushed a button to open the trunk and he put it inside beside her own black bag. Then he climbed into the passenger seat, giving her a look.

"I thought you said you would let me drive," he said.

"Oh, but what would your darling Meredith think?" Ziva said in a mockingly appalled voice. "You, putting your hands on another car's steering wheel? That is just wrong, Tony." Tony glared back.

"You want to play that game? Then why don't we talk about how you clean your knife every night and it gets its own place on your nightstand? I'm afraid to imagine what you do with it when I'm not over."

"That knife has been with me through things you could only imagine in nightmares!" Ziva shot back. There was a tense silence, then she sighed. "You can drive back," she finally said. "If you think you can manage not to talk about how much better of a shifter 'Meredith' is. And don't you dare bring up again how 'she' has never had anyone else besides you…"

"I was just trying to give you an explanation for why I'm a little sensitive about anyone else driving my car. I didn't mean to insult you, as you seemed to take it. 'Experienced', I said. I didn't call you a slut."

"Like you have room to talk," Ziva said. "Compared to you, I'm practically a virgin."

"What part of 'I _didn't_ call you a slut' don't you understand?" Ziva decided that answering him wouldn't do much good. They drove toward the highway from his apartment.

"What exactly _are_ the Poconos?" Ziva asked, after a few minutes of silence.

"Some kind of mountain range," Tony said, staring out the window. "Never been there." Then the tense silence returned.

"I cannot believe I'm doing this," Ziva muttered.

Tony couldn't either. He was way past the point where he would have just broken up with anyone else. It was going very much like all his other relationships had. They had had a month where everything was great and they were in love and he was sure that they would last, and then problems arose. Little things, mostly. Like how once she had gotten him to floss regularly, Ziva complained that he always left it lying around instead of actually throwing it away. And they were always fighting over the air conditioner. And then there had been the huge blowup fight about 'Achmed the Dead Terrorist.' The only reason it had turned into a major point of contention was that she had actually thought it was funny the first time she saw it. Then a few days later Tony had been watching it again and Ziva had walked over and, without a word, unplugged his computer. He had, at the same time, been working on things for work and had lost about ten pages worth. She then demanded very loudly to know how he could watch something so crude and racist. He said some things back that he later regretted and it was two and a half days before they spoke again.

After that, he had gone to talk to Ducky, remembering how he had been a help when Tony and Kate had been fighting. That was when Ducky had brought up the Couples Weekend. At first he hadn't wanted to do it and it had been hard enough convincing himself before he even brought it up to Ziva. To his surprise, she hadn't put up as much of a fight as he thought she would. Maybe, he hoped, she didn't want it to end either. It had taken enough effort just to get them together. He was fighting as hard as he thought he could to keep from completely falling out of love with her.

"So," Ziva said. "The people we will be talking to—are they insane?"

"Psych people are always a little weird. But crazy? I don't think so?"

"Then why call them head-shriekers? Is psychotherapy itself particularly painful?" Tony rolled his eyes and reminded himself that, for once, she wasn't doing it on purpose.

"The word is 'head-_shrinkers_,'" Tony said. "And I'm not really sure where that came from."

"Do they practice voodoo or something?"

"Not that kind of head-shrinkers. All we have to do is talk; you know, about our relationship and our communication and things like that."

"And this is going to help?"

"Duckman seemed to think so." Ziva nodded. She was still doubtful, but she trusted Ducky's opinion. There were a few more minutes of silence, unless you counted Tony praying that there weren't any cops nearby when Ziva almost missed the exit and swerved, narrowly missing the concrete barrier that separated the access road from the highway.

"Will we have to talk about our sex life?" Ziva asked, once they were on the right road.

"Maybe. But this weekend is supposed to be about communication and our problems with it, and sex seems to be one of the few things we don't have problems with."

"Of course," Ziva said. "On the other hand, maybe they can figure out why exactly you feel the need to say 'Geronimo!' every time you—"

"Or," Tony said, cutting in. "We could just leave that out entirely. I'm sure there are more important things we could be discussing." Ziva gave him that irritating smirk and looked back at the road.

"So we're going to have to talk about our relationship with groups of people? How many people usually go to this kind of thing?"

"I don't know; never been to one before. But there's one consolation; they'll all be total strangers and we'll never see them again. I can't imagine anyone we know going to something like this."

*********************************

"Abbs," Gibbs said gently, "It's time."

Abby looked down at the baby in her arms. "I don't want to leave him, Jethro."

Gibbs knelt at her side and raised her chin with his finger, forcing her to look at him. "I know, sweetheart, but we can't take him with us. Remember, we're doing this for his sake as well as our own."

She could hear the slight tremor in his voice, and knew that he was nervous too, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from doing what was needed. She kissed Jackie's forehead, then stood and handed him over to his nanny. "Take good care of him," she said with a sniff.

"Don't worry; I will," the young woman replied with a kind smile.

She took Gibbs' hand and turned her gaze away. "Let's go," she said resolutely.

They drove silently for several miles, then Gibbs asked quietly, "How ya doin', Abbs?"

She turned to him with a shaky smile. "I'm fine, Jethro. I know that Maureen will take really good care of Jackie, and that if something happens she will have lots of people to call, and besides he's been okay so far, hasn't he? I mean, you'd almost think he was born on time except that he's smaller than the usual 3-month-old. And a little behind on development, but nothing seriously bad. I've read about 28-week babies that had a lot more problems than he has. Did you know that some of them have to go home on respirators or C-PAP? Or maybe a heart or seizure monitor? I'm really glad –"

"Abby."

She closed her mouth, recognizing a tone he sometimes used at work.

"Sorry, Gibbs. I was babbling."

"It's not so much that you were babbling, it's that you weren't really answering my question."

"Oh." She was silent for a moment. "Jethro, I'm not fine. But I will be, I think. And being with you helps a lot."

"Same here, Abbs. Same here."

********************************

Several hours later, they arrived at the resort that was hosting the workshop. They paid little attention to the other cars in the parking lot; they just wanted to get checked in and get it over with.

"Hi, we're attending the couples' weekend," Abby told the front desk clerk.

"Name?"

"Abby Sciuto and Jethro Gibbs."

"I just need one." He typed her name into the computer and the registration information came up quickly. "You're in suite 204."

"A suite?"

"Yes, all we have are suites. You'll find a complimentary basket of fruit and candy, as well as chilled champagne, when you go to your room. However, since the welcome session has already started, you may prefer to go there first. We can take your luggage up."

"That's not necessary," Gibbs spoke up from behind her. "We have to change clothes anyway."

Abby had been planning to agree; now she would have to ask Jethro why not.

"Here are your keys, Ms. Sciuto and Mr. Gibbs. They also give you access to other amenities such as the fitness room, game room, swimming pools, and so forth. Enjoy!"

"Thank you."

They stepped away from the counter, and Abby asked under her breath, "Why didn't you want to go right into the session?"

Gibbs grinned. "Because I want to take you upstairs and ravish you first."

A tingle went down her spine and she giggled. "Just let me peek in, okay? I want to see what we're in for."

"Sure."

Abby walked into the banquet hall, which seemed to be full of people. There were a scattering of small tables in the middle, and on the outer edges there were booths with a variety of refreshments as well as informational literature.

Just as she turned away, she thought she saw someone in the corner of her eye.

'No! It can't be!' she thought. But she had to take another look to be sure.

'It _is_ them!' Feeling somewhat panicked, she rushed back to Gibbs. "Tony and Ziva are here!"

********************************

Ziva thought she was being pretty reasonable, standing there drinking a soda, not making any comments about how Tony had immediately grabbed a plate and filled it with food. At the moment he was scarfing down spinach and artichoke dip on crackers.

"You sure you don't want any?" he said.

"I ate before we came," she said. "As did you."

"Well, yeah, but I'm not about to pass up free food. Can you believe this place?" Ziva nodded appreciatively.

"Almost makes up for the fact that we have to spill our guts to complete strangers," she muttered. "Speaking of which, you're going to make yourself sick if you keep eating like that."

"You do realize that they don't mean our literal guts, right?"

She gave him the look she had been giving him since the first day she met him, bristling with irritation like a porcupine with quills outstretched, with a hint of disgust thrown in. It was a look that had always kind of turned him on. "Oh, of course." She leaned over to whisper in his ear; she knew he liked it when she was angry at him and used that to her advantage to get back at him. "That would be too much fun." She punctuated that by pressing her ankle against his so he could feel that she had brought the beloved knife along.

Tony wasn't looking at her; he was staring at the door to the welcome room with an odd look on his face. Ziva felt a hint of annoyance. It had to be admitted that both of them thrived on conflict, so that it didn't matter whether it was passion or anger that made the sparks fly; what mattered was that they did. She liked playing with him, knowing that he wanted her and teasing him just enough to keep him interested, but letting him know it was not going to happen. Of course if he stopped paying attention to her when she did it...she had looked at the door to see what he was staring at. Now she saw—but it couldn't possibly be.

"It's probably just someone who looks like her," she said to Tony. "There are other people in the world who dress similar to Abby and the look is so extreme that it's hard to recognize individual people. I'm sure if you dressed _me _up like that, you might mistake me for Abby." Tony grinned.

"That I would love to see," he said. "What would—" He stopped. The woman who could have been Abby had left; his eyes followed her and he was sure he saw a hint of grey hair. But there was no way, no way in hell.

"Well, _we_ are here," Ziva said, reading his thoughts. "Who would have thought that?"

"I know. But Gibbs? He's the last person I would ever expect at a place like this." Ziva thought for a minute.

"Last week," she said, "someone left some kind of flyer in an envelope on Gibbs' desk. He didn't seem very happy about it. I guess it was about this."

"Must have been Ducky," Tony said. "He's the only guy who could bring this up to Gibbs and not get punched in the face." Just then, wanting to see this for himself, a man that was unmistakably Gibbs poked his head in. Without meaning to, they made eye contact. Then he disappeared. Ziva groaned.

"You realize what this means, don't you?" she said. "All this relationship stuff that we have to talk about—it'll be in front of Abby and Gibbs!"

"I'm sure they're thinking the exact same thing right now," Tony said. Abby reappeared, caught his eye and waved hesitantly. Tony smiled and waved back. Encouraged, Abby came in, holding (dragging, rather) Gibbs' hand. Tony set down his plate, grabbed Ziva and walked toward them. They met in the center of the room. They made an interesting picture; Tony and Abby hugged and talked while Ziva and Gibbs both crossed their arms and nodded to each other, not making eye contact. Then Abby had to hug Ziva too.

"So…"she said to her.

"So," Ziva returned. There was silence for a minute. "This is a bit awkward, yes?"

"D'you think Ducky _meant_ for us all to be here together?" Abby said.

"Don't think he meant it," Tony said. "I guess it just so happened that all four of us were having problems at the same time—not that I automatically assume that you guys are having problems," he said, realizing what he had just said. "I—I just—well, I know that—I didn't know—"

"I can't think of any other reason why you would be here," Ziva said, nudging Tony. "I know I wouldn't be here for anything else."

"I imagine we could talk to the group coordinators," Gibbs said. "Make sure we're not in any of the same groups."

"That might be best," Ziva said. Just as the silence almost became awkward, Tony spoke.

"Why don't me and Ziva go see if we can find out who that is," he said. "Since you guys just got here and you might want to look around—"

"Right," Abby said. "Thanks, guys." Tony and Ziva left. Gibbs was feeling a mix of different emotions and for a minute didn't know what to do, but for Abby's sake he decided to smile; Ducky had to be laughing to himself knowing what was going to happen that weekend.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Feet of Clay (7)

Rating: T

Pairing: Gabby (and now Tiva)

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with NCIS

After about thirty minutes, everyone got into what the coordinators called their 'core groups.' Nothing had to be rearranged; the two couples would not have been in the same groups anyway, but Tony and Ziva talked to the people in charge all the same to make sure that they would not be together at any point during the weekend. The core groups consisted of only three couples each; this was supposed to make it easier for people to share personal thoughts and feelings. To start off with, the leader of Tony and Ziva's group said, they were going to play the Ungame. It wasn't really a game, hence the name; each person drew a card from a deck that had questions written on each card and then answered the question. The questions were all designed to find out more about each person. Tony thought it might be interesting; Ziva just slouched in her chair with her arms crossed.

"Is this really necessary?" she whispered to Tony, while another group member was talking about the kitten he had had who died when he was in the first grade.

"If they say it is. Be quiet," Tony whispered back. The leader glanced at them. It felt kind of like being back in elementary school; the rules were that you couldn't talk while another person was talking. Of course that didn't stop Ziva from communicating her disgust with impatient sighs and the occasional suppressed giggle at the apparent ridiculousness of the questions. Tony wondered if it was possible for this weekend to make things _worse_ between them instead of better.

When Tony's turn came, he picked up the card, read it, then quickly stuffed it back in the stack.

"Mr. DiNozzo," the leader said, in that calm but firm tone that Ziva imagined one might use for guiding sheep. "The rules are that you must answer the question on the card that you drew."

"I can't answer that one," Tony said. His face was totally blank. "If I told you about that, I would have to kill you." Ziva looked at him to see if he was serious; he gave her the tiniest hint of a wink. The leader looked surprised and disconcerted; she guessed that he hadn't dealt with this situation before. However, he enforced the rules and told Tony that he would have to forfeit his turn. Tony nodded and handed the cards to Ziva. She drew a card, wondering if she could get away with the same thing when Tony read over her shoulder: "'Say something about honesty.' Well, go on, Ziva; what do you think about it?"

"Mr. DiNozzo." The leader's voice hadn't changed in the slightest from when he had said Tony's name before. "There is no talking unless it is your turn, not even to your significant other. Ms. David, you may continue." Ziva looked at her card for a minute. Something about honesty? Did they want her to be _honest_ about honesty?

"Honesty…" She stuck the card at the bottom of the pile and passed it to the next person. "Is overrated and often unnecessary if the same or better results can be achieved by lying." She looked down at the carpet with its maroon squares framed by curlicues of gold. She knew they were all staring at her. This was why she hated things like this. They could talk about how they wanted to get to know her, but there was no point; no one in _this_ kind of group could ever understand her.

The next person picked up a card that allowed her to ask a question or make a comment. "I wanted to ask you something, Ms. David."

"You know," the leader said. "We should really be on first-name terms here, considering what we are doing this weekend. Marissa, you can ask Ziva a question."

"Ok," the woman said. "Ziva, could you tell me why you feel that way about honesty? Are you saying you're never honest or just occasionally and there is no way to tell?"

"That's two questions," Ziva said. She wanted to give the woman her look from hell, but knew she was going to have to be around her the entire weekend, so she just kept staring at the floor. "To answer one of them, which is all you are allowed, I _am_ honest sometimes and no, there is no way for you to tell." Only once Marissa's partner was talking about her favorite childhood fairytale did Ziva sneak a glance at Tony. He didn't look upset or anything. She was sure he knew that that was just how she was. It wasn't as if she lied to him…not often anyway.

On his next turn, however, Tony got a comment card and turned and said to her, "Ziva, I knew you were lying about the movie last week. You didn't really want to see it and you hated it. But, we got to spend some time together that would otherwise have been spent sulking in one of our apartments and it was really nice of you to go with me. So, to some degree I have to agree with you; sometimes it works better to lie if you can accept the consequences." He smiled at her in an odd way and handed her the deck. Ziva didn't like how she felt then; like a small child being indulgently smiled on by the adults. She felt terribly immature. The next question was an immeasurable relief.

"'How do you act when you want to avoid doing something?'" She read it aloud, dropped it on the floor, then got up and walked to the door. "You asked," she said, and left.

***********************

The Ungame was being used as an icebreaker in all the groups. Gibbs had been listening to Abby go on for several minutes about what the best dessert in the world would be.

"And then it would have whipped cream, then chocolate whipped cream, and then a cherry on top. No, two cherries. Because then you could share!" As he knew it would, Abby's cheerful and loving nature had already won her the good will of most of the people there that weekend. They only stared at her clothes for a few minutes, until she started talking; then they relaxed and she became their friend. Everyone in the group smiled at her and a few giggled a little when she got done talking about her dessert. "Sorry," she said, smiling sheepishly and handed the cards to Gibbs.

From Gibbs' point of view, this weekend was supposed to be about him and Abby; there was no reason to involve all these other people and he certainly didn't want to be telling them personal details. But for Abby's sake, he would attempt it. He reached for a card and read it.

"'Tell about a time when you were teased.'" He pretended to be thinking for a moment. "In junior high, there were a couple of guys who called me names in halls sometimes. It didn't really bother me; they were just a bunch of insecure jerks who liked to hear the sounds of their own voices." He handed the deck to the next person and sat back in his seat. No one, not even Abby, said anything about it.

The next time it was Abby's turn, she drew a card that said, 'Say something about resentment.' For a minute, she didn't know what to say. The question seemed to catch on something inside her and she felt more than she could put into words. "Well," she said slowly. "I think resentment is kind of a weird thing, really; I mean, why wouldn't you want to clear the air and just tell someone you're mad at them? It's better than holding it inside; it can only cause more problems that way."

Gibbs' card said, 'Say something about alcoholic beverages.'

"I like them," he said. "I'm a bourbon drinker personally, although—I guess I haven't been drinking it a lot lately; it seems like—I mean, I like it and all, but it can make you do things—or it can turn you into someone that you don't really want to be. Or at least help." He couldn't tell if Abby was looking at him or not. Was _that_ what was upsetting her? But they had worked it out—they had spent months together without it causing any more problems. That couldn't be it. Maybe some kind of doubts about her ability to be a mother or something.

"'Say something about apologizing'" Abby looked thoughtful. "I think it's one of those things that can be good sometimes, but I've learned that if you do it a lot, it can make you look weak. So I don't do it as much and I don't always expect it from other people. And especially if you're close to someone, you don't need to as much. There are some things that I've forgiven people for before they even said that they were sorry. So maybe it's less necessary than people are always saying it is." Once she was finished speaking, the leader said that they were almost through, but he would leave it open for a few minutes so that people could ask questions or make comments. One man directed his question to Abby.

"So you think that, if you're close to someone, they should already know that you're sorry and that makes saying so pointless?"

"Kind of," Abby said. "I mean, some things that Jethro has done, I _know_ he was and is sorry. I just know. So I'm not going to keep holding them against him." She smiled at him and Gibbs smiled back. He was glad she knew him so well.

"This was really good," their leader said, after a few more comments. "I think we're making real progress and I hope you feel that, too. Now let's move into the main hall where we had the welcome session; we're going to have some recreational activities."

***********************

_How are we going to solve any problems if she keeps running away?_ Tony wandered the halls in search of Ziva. After she left, the leader had told everyone to take a break and he and Tony started looking for her. There was no telling where she was; if Ziva was upset and wanted to literally run away, she could be quite a distance from there.

What had he said? All he had wanted to do was make her feel better. Everyone else in the group had been staring at her like she had two heads or something and he wanted her to feel more comfortable. It seemed to have only made her more angry. Again he wondered if this had been a mistake, if he was pushing things. The relationship seemed to be going downhill at alarming speed. Maybe keeping it together was more trouble than it was worth.

He rounded a corner and there she was, pacing in front of their room. He remembered now that he had the keys, which was probably why she was still outside. She still looked angry, but at least she was attempting to calm down. But from what?

"Glad I found you," he said to her. "Nice answer. Loved the demonstration, especially the part where you get pissed off because I said something nice to you. Did they schedule this at the wrong time of the month or something?" Ziva gave him a look that was beyond angry.

"What kind of insane place is this?" she asked him. "Why should I tell any of these people how I feel about honesty or what kind of pet I want? It's ridiculous and a waste of time; this isn't going to help our relationship."

"Maybe not. But shouldn't we at least pretend to be normal and go along with what they say?"

"I noticed _you_ haven't answered any questions yet." Tony narrowed his eyes at her.

"I couldn't answer the one I got; I told everyone."

"Oh, really? What was it?"

"None of yours or anyone's business!" Tony snapped. Ziva looked startled, then smirked at him.

"Now who's avoiding the issues?" she said. "I thought we were supposed to be opening up to each other. If you can't tell me, I have to assume that you don't trust me and how is our relationship supposed to work without trust…"

"For the love of God, Ziva…" Tony pressed his forehead against the wall and pounded it with his fist. The next words out of his mouth might have buried their relationship had the leader not come around the corner with the same smile on his face.

"Oh, Ziva. I'm glad we found you," he said. "Now that you've had a chance to cool off, I was wondering if you would like to return to the group and later perhaps we can talk about the feelings that you had that led you to react so strongly to this."

"Ok," Ziva said and walked toward him. Tony lifted his head and stared at her, dumbfounded. "I owe it to Tony to give it another try." She patted him on the back with a smile that seemed sincere. _What the hell was that?_ Tony thought, but he followed them back to the room and they took their places.

****************************

Ziva could understand running while balancing eggs; she could even appreciate the relay races. What she found unfathomable was the three-legged race. It couldn't be a show of speed or endurance or anything, really, because one person was inevitably slower or clumsier than the other and it pushed the other back to their level. And the first person could lean on the other's talent. It did no one any good and it certainly couldn't fulfill the purpose of a race, which was to see who was the fastest. Or so she had previously thought.

She and Gibbs stood against the wall, watching the rest of the participants playing games. They were the only dissenters; the other 34 people plus the leaders were running around like kids, chasing each other with eggs on spoons and squirting everyone with a substance called Silly String at the finish line. Ziva hadn't played those games even when she was a child. If you had to play something, there were much more practical things that developed needed physical characteristics and skills. But to be playing these games now, as adults; it was just…

"This is absurd," she muttered. Gibbs heard her, but it was a moment before he replied.

"Yep," he said. He hadn't come here to play kid's games. He had come for Abby's sake; to rescue their family. Of course, he hadn't known what to expect and he had known that it would be unpleasant, but this seemed downright useless. He looked at Abby; she and one of the men were dressed in inflatable sumo wrestler costumes and she was gleefully smacking him with some kind of stick, also inflatable. At least _she_ was happy. Maybe she would cheer up a little and she could deal with the problems she was having. Whatever those were.

"I have never seen anything so pointless."

"Nope."

"How long do you think before they get tired?" Tony was on the relay race finish line doing some sort of victory dance, unaware that another team member was about to sneak up behind him and spray Silly String down his pants. He had caught her eye several times and tried to get her to join in; she stayed obstinately against the wall.

"They said recreation was supposed to last about an hour." He checked his watch. Another fifteen minutes or so.

"Are they going to make us do much more of this?"

"I hope not."

Abby and Tony were both now at the three-legged race. Abby gestured to Gibbs. He signed that he was fine where he was. She signed back 'please' and gave him the saddest puppy dog eyes, the ones he couldn't seem to resist. Tony was also waving to Ziva; she was pretending not to notice. Gibbs turned to her.

"You know, I bet all of us would be good at that." He looked around. "Better than most of the people here in fact."

"I am not interested."

"Yeah, you're right. Even if you did compete, Abbs and I would probably win." Slowly taking the bait, Ziva turned to look at him.

"Loser buys gas for the trip home," she said.

"You're on, David."

The two couples tied legs together and got ready to race. Gibbs and Abby were ahead; Tony was having trouble keeping his balance with Ziva's competitive streak dragging him onward. However, just as they were almost finished, Tony tripped on Silly String that had come down his pants leg. As they fell, Ziva threw her hand out and it touched the finish line, just as Gibbs and Abby hobbled across. In good humor, they all called it mostly a draw; they would pay for their own gas, but Tony and Ziva owed them coffee and a CafPow. Ziva had actually been smiling for a few minutes before she realized it and went back to frowning. After the race, she and Tony went upstairs to get all the Silly String off his clothes. Abby had a fair amount of it on her too; Gibbs picked some out of her hair as they took a walk around the building for some fresh air.

"Thank you so much, Jethro," she said, her arms wrapped around him. "This has been great already."

"I only want to make you happy, Abbs," Gibbs said. "Is this helping?"

"Hard to tell. But we've only been here a few hours, you know. I was so glad they let us play those games. I figured it would be just a lot of old psychologist people in suits and ties and stuff like that. Now I'm not so nervous about tomorrow."

"I'm glad." Gibbs kissed the top of her head as they walked back in and started to head upstairs.

"Maybe…you could talk more tomorrow?" Abby said, kind of shyly.

"I did talk."

"You know, this isn't just for me. I like to know what you're thinking and feeling too. I always have."

"What I don't see is why I have to tell everyone else."

"The more you share with others, the more you can share with your significant other," Abby said, quoting their group leader from that afternoon. "And it's ok. I'm happy just that you're here and that you did talk at all. I just want you to get as much out of this as you can."

"I know." He kissed her cheek. "I'll try. We both will."


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Feet of Clay (8)

Rating: T

Pairing: Gabby, Tiva

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with NCIS.

At 3 a.m. the next morning, Gibbs sat in a chair by the pool, drinking coffee and gazing at nothing. It was the fourth time uneasiness had awakened him; this time he gave up on even trying to sleep.

Abby had been restless in bed – usually he could calm her by pulling her close and speaking soothing words in her ear, but this time she didn't seem to want his touch. He could still hear her mumbling in her sleep, words he couldn't decipher but by the tone of her voice they were not good.

What did it mean? Obviously something was bothering her, but he wasn't sure what. Maybe during the weekend he would finally find out.

Hours later, the sun rose to find Gibbs still sprawled on the chair, asleep.

*****

Abby was awake when he returned to their room, but she didn't ask where he had been. Instead, she said, "I wonder what's on the agenda today. It's too bad we didn't get a program."

"I think they were afraid people would sneak out if they knew what they were in for," Gibbs grumbled.

"Only you and Ziva," Abby smiled.

They were impressed at the breakfast buffet downstairs, which included foods from other cultures as well as American foods. Ziva was pleased to see a number of Middle Eastern dishes. She even convinced Tony to try some, and he actually liked them.

When they were almost finished with their plates, Neil, one of the conference leaders, spoke up to announce the next activity. "I hope you all had a good night's rest, and that you're enjoying our breakfast buffet." A chorus of "yes" and "great food" followed, from the polite people who felt it was their duty to respond. "For our next activity, we will divide you into small groups based on gender. You will have a chance to share why you are here without your significant other present. Then your peers may give feedback to your share. If you are ready, then I'd like the men to follow Joe," he pointed to the right side of the room, "and the women to follow Pam, on this side. If you're not finished, take your time. We don't want to rush you."

Abby and Gibbs stood and went their separate ways, while Ziva had to force Tony to get up. It was well known that Tony would not leave a buffet unless coerced.

'I'm glad it will just be women,' thought Abby. 'Now maybe I can tell the truth.'

*****

Ziva was standing outside the small conference room trying to get herself into the right frame of mind for spending the morning with a bunch of whiny, overdramatic women without wanting to reach for her knife when she was approached by a man about her age. He looked somewhat normal; he didn't remind her so much of Mr. Rogers. (How Ziva knew who Mr. Rogers was is a fascinating story that is unfortunately too much of a digression for this fanfic)

"Hi," he said. "Ziva David? I'm Sam, one of the leaders. Owen told me what happened in group yesterday. I wondered if we could discuss that. It would be just the two of us, since you might prefer that to a group setting. That is, unless you would rather be in the women's conference." Ziva agreed to go with him and they went outside to a table under a tree in the courtyard. Sam got right to the point.

"So I was wondering what it was that you were feeling yesterday when you left the group and if you could tell me what it was that bothered you."

"I'm just not used to this sort of thing at all," Ziva said. "Quite honestly, I don't see any reason for all this."

"Then why did you come?" Sam asked.

"It was Tony's idea," Ziva said.

"Your significant other?"

"Yes. We've been fighting a lot and Tony asked a friend of ours what to do. He recommended this weekend."

"What kinds of things do you fight about?"

"The usual things, really. I'm from Israel, so I get cold easily and he's from Michigan so he gets warm easily and we fight for control of the air conditioner. A man at my apartment complex keeps hitting on me and asking me out and it bothers Tony. And it bothers me that he never throws anything away. His kitchen is covered with pizza boxes and empty Dorito bags. And his car. He's obsessed with it. He won't let me come near it. If it starts to rain he has to make sure that 'Meredith' is protected."

Sam smiled. Ziva realized that she had been speaking with more emotion than she had intended. "That's quite a list," Sam said. "Maybe it would help to talk about something else for a minute. Tell me what you _do_ like about Tony."

"Well," Ziva said, pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts. It was kind of embarrassing that it took her this long to think of things. But so many of the things were hard to put into words. "When we first met, he was…fun," Ziva said. "We teased each other a lot. It was nice after being so long in situations where everyone was so serious all the time. And there was once…I was upset about a case that we had worked and he came over and made me feel better. It was really sweet of him; he was so determined to have a relationship with me. I just…wish I didn't think he was having second thoughts." Sam nodded.

"When you were talking about Tony's car, you sounded very upset. Would you say you are jealous of the attention he pays to it?"

"Of course not," Ziva said. "I'm not one of these pathetic, possessive women who demand that men spend every minute attending to them. I can take care of myself. It's just that—it's ridiculous to be that way with an inanimate object."

"When he has a real woman who loves him at home?" This caught Ziva off guard.

"I—well—I—what?"

"Let's switch gears again. I want you to think back to the last time you spent time together before this weekend. Tell me what you said to him."

Ziva had to admit that their conversation had been mostly complaints; about work, about each other, about what the plans for the evening were.

"Now, Ziva, I want you to understand that I am not assigning blame anywhere. That's not my job. What my job is, however, is to give you the tools you need to be able to keep your relationship going. So we're only going to discuss what you can do at this point. As you know, there is no way for you to change anything about Tony, so we're going to focus on what you _can _do. Ok?"

*****

Abby sat in a circle of chairs along with the other 3 group members and the facilitator, Felicity. Her boots beat a slow tap dance on the floor, and her hands opened and closed reflexively. She looked around at the other participants, none of whom she recognized.

"Okay, introductions first," Felicity said, with a warm but not overdone smile. "Let's start on this side. First name only."

"Wendy."

"Abby."

"Cinda."

"Rayshann."

"And I'm Felicity, in case you don't know who I am. We're going to talk about why we're here this weekend. Who would like to go first?"

To Abby's great relief, Cinda raised her hand. "I'd like to go first." Felicity nodded. "It's like this, my husband and I got married about a year ago and I soon found out that he was violent when he was drunk. He denied it. I'd show him my bruises but he didn't believe that he caused them himself. I had to do something drastic – I set up a video camera in the living room. When I showed him the tape, he finally admitted he had a problem. He went to rehab and stopped drinking. He hasn't relapsed and he isn't violent when he is not drunk, so our life is much better now." Cinda paused and said, "That doesn't sound like a good reason, does it?"

"Is there more?" Felicity asked softly.

Cinda nodded. "I'm still furious at him for what he did! Even if he's changed, that doesn't make up for all the times he hurt me before." The other women nodded. "I feel so resentful it drives me crazy. I don't want to make love to him anymore. I don't want to do things with him. I get angry at other people!" She paused, trying to calm her breathing. "I have to talk to him about how I feel but I don't know how and I'm afraid I'll lose him."

Abby sat in disbelief. How could Cinda's story be so close to her own? "Can I say something?" she blurted, without thinking.

"Cinda, are you okay with feedback?" asked Felicity. Cinda had hidden her face, red and moist with tears, but she nodded a 'yes.'

Abby could feel the energy of the words ready to pop out of her mouth as soon as she opened it. "My partner raped me when he was drunk and I got pregnant. He felt really bad about it and I love him so we decided to stay together and I had the baby, a boy. I knew he would never do it again; in fact he hardly ever drinks anymore. But the other day I was taking care of Jackie – my baby – and he was crying so long I shook him, hard. I couldn't bear it. That scared me and I tried to figure out why I did it. Now I know it's because I'm still angry! I love Jackie, but he drives me crazy crying sometimes. If it weren't for what my partner did to me, I would still be – carefree, I guess, not tied down with a child." She looked up at them through her lashes, her head downcast. "Am I horribly selfish?"

The women around her shook their heads, as did Felicity. "You need to tell him how you feel, Abby," the leader said. "And you need to tell your husband, Cinda. It's hard to know how to communicate feelings like this. In fact, our afternoon session is all about communication strategies. You will learn specific ways to express what you feel without blaming." Abby and Cinda nodded and relaxed somewhat. "Now let's move on to Wendy…"

*****

Unfortunately for Gibbs, he was picked to share first in Men's group #2. Fortunately, the facilitator had also served in the Marines during Desert Storm, so he quickly connected with Gibbs and gained his trust.

As a result, when Walker asked what had brought him to the conference, Gibbs answered truthfully. "My girlfriend and I had a baby about 3 months ago," he began, "and about 2 weeks back I found out that she lost control and shook him. She left bruises. I would never have expected her to do that! She wouldn't, or couldn't, explain."

To his surprise, 2 of the other men were nodding. "Yeah, my wife did that too," one said.

"What happened?" asked Gibbs.

"It turned out she was upset with me because I was always at work. She couldn't deal with it all on her own."

"It might be postpartum depression, too," added a young man with bright orange hair.

Gibbs glanced at Walker, who nodded and commented, "She should be checked for depression. What do you think about Charlie's idea of her being alone and frustrated?"

He tried to look as though he didn't feel uncomfortable, although he really did. "It could be. After it happened she came back to work and the baby started going to our company daycare. That did seem to help. But –" he shrugged helplessly, frustrated, "—I still think there's something else wrong. She's more distant than she was before, and I don't know why."

A quiet voice spoke up. "Have you asked her?"

For a moment Gibbs' face flashed with fury, but he caught Walker's eye just in time to avoid making a sarcastic comment. "Yes," he said simply, "but she wouldn't tell me."

"Maybe she's afraid of your response," someone suggested.

Gibbs sighed, because that was his theory also. "Probably so."

*****

Ziva and Sam talked until lunchtime and then Ziva went to meet Tony in the same room that breakfast had been in.

While they were getting their meal, she said, "You know, while I was running this morning, I saw a very pretty little clearing about fifteen minutes walk away with a great view of the mountains. Would you like to have a knickknack there?" Tony stared for a minute, trying to figure out what she was talking about, then smiled.

"I would love a picnic," he said. "Let's go."

They borrowed lunchboxes from the kitchen and walked to the spot. There were rocks of varying sizes that seemed arranged for picnickers and they soon set it up and were eating.

"How was your morning?" Ziva asked. They hadn't talked much on the way up and had eaten in mostly silence.

"Not bad," Tony said with a grin. "One of the guys' dad has a '95 Camaro. He never admitted it, but Meredith beat that car's ass." Ziva bit back the angry words that rose in her throat. She paused a minute and, like she had been told, tried to talk about it like she would to a child. (Though obviously not ideal, it helped Ziva to put things into words that were simpler and, more importantly, not chosen with the intent of hurting the other person)

"Tony," she said calmly. "I'm glad you made a new friend and had a nice discussion. But can we not talk about the car right now?"

"Hey, you were the one who brought up our mornings. What were you doing? Holding hands and singing kumbaya?"

"I was talking to one of the leaders; we talked about communication." She looked at him. He alternately eating sausage balls and throwing acorn shells at a nearby squirrel. She sighed. "Tony, I need to say something." He glanced at her, then continued eating and throwing.

"Go ahead."

"Tony, could you please put the food down and look at me?" Looking confused, Tony did as requested. They looked each other and he managed a serious expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Can you listen to what I have to say without making comments?"

"Sure."

"Or laughing, or anything else? Just listen?"

"Ok, ok, fine. Just say it if you're going to."

"It seems like you've changed. I know I've been making a big deal about your car, but it's just strange to me that suddenly you're devoting all this attention to it and I wonder -" This was a lot harder than she had expected, especially considering how ridiculous it sounded in her head. "I wonder if you've changed your mind. About us, or even having a regular girlfriend. I mean, you can easily get all your physical needs met and as for anything else…well, to hear you tell it, your car can be everything I can and even more—or less, rather, because Meredith doesn't complain about you leaving your underwear on her floor. I guess right now I want to know if you really want to be with me anymore or if you are just staying because you feel like you have to. Because if you are, we can leave right now and just go our separate ways." The thought caused an unexpected surge of emotion and she stared at a pine cone near her feet for a moment to regain control.

There was a prolonged pause and she looked up at Tony. He had an impatient but scared look on his face; he stared at her expectantly for a few more seconds then said so quietly that she could barely hear.

"Am I going to be in trouble if I say something now? Am I done listening?"

"No. And yes." Ziva couldn't help but smile. "Yes. I'm finished. Go ahead."

"Well, in my defense I have to say that I haven't really changed. Honest, I haven't. I've always done all that with my car. Maybe you didn't notice just because, you know, before we got together, we weren't that close." He looked her in the eyes again. "I know we had a good relationship as partners but obviously that doesn't necessarily carry over into this kind of relationship. Do _you_ think we should end?"

"I don't want it to, Tony. I like being with you. But I don't know what to do about this; I want to be with you and be close to you and the next second we're yelling at each other about nothing and I'm so angry I just want you to leave. And things don't always work just because we wish they would." Both stared at the ground and were silent for several minutes.

"It's so easy to misjudge someone," Ziva said, a few minutes later for no particular reason. "You meet someone, think you might have potential, then you get to know them—people make mistakes. It happens— most of the time, really."

"Yeah," Tony said dejectedly. There was another pause. "So what do we do now?"

Ziva thought for a minute. "I guess we should finish out the weekend, since we did pay for it and it's not bad here, even though the activities are ridiculous," Ziva said.

"Yeah," Tony said again. Almost sadistically, he thought, he was glad that she seemed at least a little sad about it. He moved closer and put an arm around her; she leaned against him.

"I'm really sorry," she whispered.

"I am, too," Tony said. _I thought I really loved her._

_I thought we would be together forever._ Ziva tried to stop thinking about where it had gone wrong. It just had. It wasn't even really anyone's fault. These things happened. After a minute, she left his side and started getting their things together. "I guess we should head back; there's something at one." Tony didn't reply; just got to his feet and helped her pack up.

When they were ready to leave, Ziva said, "I want you to know, Tony, that even though this didn't work, you'll always be very special to me. You've always been a good friend and I hope you always will be." But Tony just smiled sadly and shook his head.

"As close as we were, Ziva," he said. "We'll never be able to go back to what we were. Maybe we'll be something just as good; I don't know. But…this has changed everything. I guess really it's a good thing; means this wasn't completely worthless."

"It wasn't," Ziva said. Hearts heavy with resignation, they walked back to the conference for the afternoon conference.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Feet of Clay (9)

Rating: T

Pairing: Gabby, Tiva

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with NCIS.

Abby and Gibbs ate lunch in silence, after the usual amenities of "How was your morning?" and such. Each was busy pondering the events of that morning.

When they were done, Gibbs reached to take her hand. "What's on for this afternoon?" he asked, even though he already knew.

"We all get together for a lecture on communication strategies." At his questioning look, she added, "Yes, Ziva and Tony will be there, but it's just a lecture. We can sit across the room from them and pretend they aren't there."

He gave a half-smile and stood up. "Ready, Abbs?"

"As I'll ever be!"

*****

Gibbs could tell that Abby was listening carefully to every word the lecturer spoke; if she had been a cat her ears would have swiveled forward. He decided that if she felt it was that important, then so did he. He studied the handouts, and listened to the points the speaker made.

"Use 'I' instead of 'you' statements."

"Work to understand your own emotions so you can share them with your partner."

"Listen to your partner – 100% attention – when he or she is speaking."

"Check with your partner to make sure you understood."

"Be honest about your feelings but don't blame the other person."

If Gibbs had been as hyper as Abby, he would have squirmed in his seat as he realized how many of those guidelines he didn't observe. Maybe it was time for a new set of rules for relationships. He knew that if he had followed them, he might not have so many ex-wives (on the other hand, he might not be with Abby now either).

As Abby listened, she found herself outlining exactly what she wanted to say to Gibbs, based on the suggested guidelines:

'_Gibbs, I am very angry that you raped me! I feel hurt and betrayed. I am furious! I trusted you. I am trying to trust you now but it's hard because of what you did to me. I wasn't ready for a baby yet; I liked my carefree lifestyle. Sometimes the pain I feel is just too much to bear. Still, it was wrong of me to act angry towards Jackie instead of you. I was afraid to tell you how I feel, but now I'm not afraid anymore. I am angry!'_

When she heard the lecturer ask, "Would anyone like to try sharing with their partner using these guidelines?" it was inevitable that she would immediately raise her hand. Gibbs turned to her, surprised.

"Go ahead, Abby," the speaker encouraged.

She faced Gibbs and took a deep breath. She hesitated only a second, then plunged into her speech, her eyes on his.

She had no thought for the others in the room.

"Gibbs, I am very angry that you raped me!" Her voice was forceful but even; she felt confident now. "I feel hurt and betrayed. I am –"

Abby was interrupted by someone pushing past her and punching Gibbs in the face.

'Oh God – I forgot about Tony and Ziva!' Abby thought, mortified.

The entire group gasped at the sudden confrontation, and Abby felt trapped in a whirlwind of chaos. The next thing she knew she was being led into the corridor and 2 facilitators were dragging Tony and Ziva away from Gibbs. It was obvious he had been hit more than once, but she had to wonder who got to him first (probably Ziva).

She felt a twinge of guilt, overlaid with satisfaction at finally speaking her mind. Well, some of it at least. Gibbs' expression was a strange mixture of anger and relief. She tried to catch his eye but he wouldn't look at her. They brought him some ice for his bruises, then found a comfortable reclining chair.

Abby pulled up a chair beside him, lightly touching his arm to reassure him that she was still there. She didn't speak.

Several long minutes later, he ended the silence. "You weren't finished, were you?" he asked gently. "Tell me, Abby."

She was still convinced that sharing her feelings was best for both of them – it just hadn't been good timing earlier – so she completed her speech, still forceful, still looking into his eyes. The sight of his bruised face and head made her heart ache, but her voice didn't break.

When she finished, he closed his eyes briefly. Opening them again, he signed 'thank you.'

'For what?' she signed back, amazed.

'For telling me the truth. For opening yourself to me. I want --' here his hands hesitated, and he spoke instead. "I want to open myself to you too."

Tears began to run down her cheeks – she had never dared to imagine that he would allow such intimacy. Smiling, she embraced him tightly and laid her head on his chest in contentment.

Meanwhile, Tony and Ziva were having a private session with a counselor…

"Mr. DiNozzo, I really need for you to calm down…"

"Like hell I'm going to calm down!" Tony snarled. "I'm going out there to give that son of a bitch what he deserves. I would have already if you hadn't pushed me out of the way and gotten there first." He glared at Ziva, who was standing against the wall, arms crossed and looking furious, but maintaining a sense of composure.

"Mr. DiNozzo this isn't going to help." The leader was trying to hold him back from the door which Tony seemed determined to get out of. He wasn't calming down. Finally, Ziva walked over, grabbed Tony by the shoulders and pushed him into a nearby chair.

"Sit down!" she said, in her interrogator voice. "You're making an idiot out of yourself. If you calm down, I'm sure everything can be explained."

"Oh, now I'm going to take advice from the queen of impulse control? Who gave Gibbs that black eye, huh?"

"Yes, but I am calm _now_," Ziva said. "As you should be." He started to get up; she pulled him back. "Try that one more time and you'll spend the rest of the day unconscious."

"Ms. David," the other leader in the room said in a warning voice. "Being calm means not taking out your emotions on your significant other. My name is Stephen; I can see that both of you are very upset. Maybe you could tell me what happened and what you are feeling?"

"We have a rapist bastard for a boss," Tony said, darkly.

"To be honest, I don't think either of us understands the situation," Ziva said. "Two of our co-workers are here and Abby said something about Gibbs raping her. Neither of us thought before we acted."

"So tell me how you feel, like was demonstrated today." Ziva narrowed her eyes at him.

"Is this really the time for that kind of nonsense?" she asked.

"I feel really angry that my boss raped my friend and obviously hurt her a lot," Tony said. Both looked at him in surprise. "What? I was listening during that thing."

"Ms. David?"

"About the same." But Stephen made her turn it into an 'I' statement before he was satisfied. "I can't believe they never told us about it!" she added, when she had done as requested.

"C'mon, Ziva, if it were you, would you want to tell everyone?" Tony asked. She gave him a look.

"If it were you and me, everyone would know about it because I would have to explain why your dead body was missing its reproductive organs," she said.

"Ok, but threats of domestic violence aside, I guess I can kind of understand that part." There was a knock at the door; the leaders were both called out for something and judged the two of them to be stable enough to leave alone.

"Do you think you are calm enough to meet with your co-workers—with supervision—and talk to them about this?" Stephen asked.

"I guess so," Tony said, and Ziva nodded in agreement. Both leaders left.

"I just—" Ziva shook her head. "Of all people; Gibbs—that he would do something like this."

"I always knew that Gibbs had a dark side," Tony said. "But not this dark."

"If it makes you feel any better, Tony, I still have the urge to shoot him. Not fatally. The leg maybe."

"Good thing neither of us brought our weapons," Tony replied. He sat beside her and took her hand out of habit; she pulled away from him. "What? Now you're mad at me too? I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

"It's not that, Tony. It's just that we are no longer a couple, remember?"

"Oh. Right." Tony moved away from her on the couch and crossed his arms. After everything that day, it hurt worse than he had expected it to.

The door opened and Stephen and the other leader came in, followed by Abby and Gibbs. They maintained a safe distance from Tony and Ziva.

"Sorry about that," Abby said. "I wasn't thinking. That was quite a bomb to drop on you guys, especially in front of everyone—"

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Abby," Tony said, giving Gibbs a cold stare.

"I think an explanation is needed," Gibbs said. He then started telling them the same thing he had told everyone else when they found out. To their credit, both remained seated.

"And so we came here," Abby finished. "To try and work things out. And I feel so much better now after I figured out what my feelings are and I told Jethro all about them. And I feel closer to him than I ever did. I know it's going to take some work, but I really think that now we're going to be ok."

Tony got up, walked slowly toward them and looked both of them in the eye. "You mean it, Abbs?"

"Yes."

"Ok. I'll take it this time." He turned to Gibbs. "But if you ever—"

"Tony," Gibbs said. "If I do, you'll have to get in line to kick my ass, and I'll be the first, believe me."

"So we are the last to find out?" Ziva said, walking over to join them. "Everyone else already knows?"

"Jen, Ducky, Franks, McGee," Gibbs counted on his fingers who knew. "Yep. You guys are the last."

Tony was a little annoyed that McGee had found out before he had.

"So, is everyone ok?" Abby asked.

"Yeah, fine," Tony said. Gibbs looked at Ziva.

"If you were anyone else, you would be dead already," she said. "But I suppose these are special circumstances."

"I'm actually glad you two found out," Abby said. "Kind of clears the air with everybody at one time."

"If this has been resolved," the leader said. "We still have a few more things that we would like to talk to Ms. Sciuto and Mr. Gibbs about. Perhaps you would like to rejoin the communications group?"

"What's the point?" Tony grumbled. "We've already—" Ziva kicked him.

"We've managed to resolve some of our communications problems," Ziva said. "Would it be alright if we took a break and did something else?"

"Of course. Dinner will be at six in the large conference room."

"Thank you." They left.

Outside in the hall, Ziva started walking away as if she had forgotten Tony was behind her.

"Ziva," he yelled after her. "Where are you going?" She looked back and shrugged.

"Thought I might go for a swim," she said. "Did you want to do something?"

"No, I, uh, guess I'll go up the room and see if they get ESPN," Tony said.

"Ok," she said. "I have to get my suit so I'll see you up there." She walked away.

Was it really that easy for her? Tony wondered. How could she just break up with him and a few hours later be back to the way they were before? _What am I thinking? It's Ziva. It could be our fiftieth wedding anniversary and she still wouldn't be emotionally attached._ And here Tony was used to being the one who didn't get attached. And he had tried so hard to keep this going! He felt a little irritated that Abby and Gibbs could keep a relationship going after what they had gone through and yet he and Ziva couldn't survive a few little spats about his car. Of course maybe it was doomed to failure from the start.

In the conference room, there was still some food left out from lunch and he grabbed some and had a snack in the lobby. He told himself he was just making sure that nothing went to waste, but he stayed only enough time for Ziva to get to their room and get her swimsuit. He didn't really feel like seeing her again for awhile.


	10. Chapter 10

Feet of Clay (10)

Stephen remained to talk to Gibbs and Abby.

He looked at each of them in turn, allowing time if either wanted to speak. When they didn't, he asked, "Abby, how do you feel about sharing your anger with Jethro today?"

The couple had their hands interlocked, and Abby was smiling. "I feel very relieved, like I have nothing to worry about anymore, no burdens. Like things are going to be okay."

"And you, Jethro?"

He gazed into her green eyes, still a bit moist from her tears. "I have never been happier in my life."

Both Abby and Stephen were a bit shocked by his response. "What do you mean?" Abby asked.

Gibbs gave her one of his half-smiles that made his eyes sparkle. "You took a burden off me, too," he answered. "The guilt that I've felt for so long – that I've allowed to build up – you released it by your anger and by your forgiveness." He paused, considering. "I think Shannon and Kelly would have forgiven me, too."

Abby gently touched his cheek. "Oh, my silver-haired fox," she breathed, "they already have."

*******************

Tony ended up falling asleep in front of the TV and didn't wake up until about nine. It was getting dark.

"Ziva!" he called. "You back?" She wasn't there, and there wasn't any indication that she had been there. Tony had to wonder; was she with someone else? Sure, most of the people there had a significant other, but there were the counselors, the workers or just someone else who had come to the same conclusion that they had. Tony paced the room for a minute; the thought of Ziva already in the arms of another man infuriated him.

Maybe he should at least give her the benefit of the doubt. Her swimsuit wasn't there; maybe she was still at the pool. Who could swim for five hours? Ziva, if she was particularly upset. Tony felt a glimmer of hope, then was ashamed of himself for being happy that the woman that he, well, at least cared for, was upset about their breakup. He would go and find her. If she was upset, maybe he could reassure her. If he could pretend he wasn't just as unhappy.

He found Ziva at the pool, not swimming, but lying on her stomach on a towel by the side. Her head was leaning on an elbow and the other hand was swirling the water lit by underwater lights, giving everything a cast of greenish blue.

"Mind if I join you?" he said, walking over and standing beside her. She didn't respond, but when he sat down, she splashed a little water in his direction in greeting.

"Have a good swim?"

"The water was a little cold, but yes, once I got moving. Did you have a good afternoon watching basketball?"

"Fell asleep actually."

"You must have been worn out from this afternoon."

"Guess so. I'm still trying to accept it, really."

"Yes. But it makes me wonder…what makes her stay with him?"

"He's…Gibbs. She's loved him forever, I think. Honestly, I think they know it's supposed to happen and they aren't letting _anything_ come between them." He took his shoes off, rolled his pants up and sat beside her with his feet in the water. "Kind of makes you feel like wimp, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know. They're still together even after he _raped_ her. And we're…why are we breaking up again?"

"What you Americans call 'irreconcilable differences'."

"Oh."

"Do you really think they should still be together?"

"So you wouldn't stay with me, then?"

"As I said this afternoon, you would be dead if you even tried it. But aside from that, I wonder if in some cases it would be better just to admit defeat. It wasn't so hard for us to do so."

"It wasn't?"

"Relatively speaking. Nothing messy; we just agreed to disagree. I didn't mean to say that I wasn't sad about it, or that I'm not going to miss you." She looked at him for the first time since he had joined her. "Are you alright, Tony?"

"I don't know." He stared at the water for a minute. "'Tell what you believe your mother might think about you right now.'"

"I'm sorry?"

"That was my card; the one I got on Friday. I didn't want to tell anyone else about it, but I want to tell you, and do you know why?"

"What's wrong with you?"

"I'll just tell you about the card first. The honest truth is that I don't know that my mother would think of me at all, particularly if she had a drink or a man around, because she so rarely did under those circumstances. I don't know if I ever even made top ten on her priority list. I try to think of her as little as possible because it just seems wrong to me for a person to think about their dead mother without feeling just the tiniest bit sad. And I don't know if she would even care that I don't." He took a deep breath. "So you want to know why I told you this?"

"If you want to tell me."

"I told you because you are one of the few people in the world that I actually trust not to say something stupid like 'Tony, you can't blame yourself for what your mother did' or 'oh, Tony, now I understand why you objectify women; you were never emotionally close to your mother.' Now say what you would say."

"I don't believe that you don't feel sad at all, and you objectify women because you are a cretin whose mind only runs on one track."

"See, I knew it; I knew that you would know what to say. Listen, Ziva, whatever 'it' is, we have it. You and me. We've always had it. And I really don't think we should let it go to 'irreconcilable differences'." It was a moment before Ziva answered.

"I appreciate the gesture, Tony, but I already told you; I don't want to spend my life fighting." She turned away from him. Tony didn't think much about he did next; he just wanted to be able to look straight at her and not have her turn away. So he slid into the pool, clothes and everything. When he came back up, he grabbed the edge and looked her in the face.

"I'm sorry you were feeling unhappy," he said to her. "I didn't mean for you to. You mean a lot to me and I'm sorry if I didn't show that enough. Can we try one more time? Please?" Once Ziva got over the surprise, her face softened.

"I'm sorry about the air conditioner," she said. "You can keep it the way you want; I'll just bring a sweater and some blankets over." He smiled at her and started to say something. "And don't you make a single joke about how what we're doing should keep me warm enough."

"How do you read my mind?" Ziva leaned in to kiss him; instead, Tony ducked underwater, came up and splashed her while her eyes were closed. Ziva screamed a little in surprise and tried to splash him back. He had gotten out of range and was swimming toward the ladder. He climbed out, bringing, from all appearances, the rest of the pool with him. Ziva wrapped her towel around herself and walked over to him.

"So this is your idea of objectifying women?" she asked.

"Well, Ziva, in all fairness, it's long been speculated that you're not a _real_ woman."

"Is that so? So what am I exactly? And what does that make _you_?"

"Very, very lucky." They smiled at each other for a minute.

"We should go upstairs and get you out of these clothes."

"Fine by me."

"All part of your plan then?"

"Not really, but it worked out well." Ziva put her arms around him and their faces drifted closer and closer.

"Yes, it certainly did." She pulled away and pushed him into the pool; Tony yelled and got a mouthful of pool water. When he came back up, Ziva was giggling, far enough away so that he couldn't pull her in. He climbed out a second time.

"Do you feel appropriately avenged for the splashing, Ms. David?" he asked.

"Yes, Tony." She came back and put an arm around him. "I won't push you in again."

"Good, because considering how wet I am now, I should go upstairs and get these clothes off before I get pneumonia or something."

"I would hate for that to happen."

"Then let's go, and hope we don't meet any counselors on the way. I don't want to know what they would think of this."

***

Abby spent the rest of the conference smiling, and she often caught Gibbs unconsciously smiling in response. She didn't mention it, though, not wanting to make him self-conscious.

As for Gibbs, he frequently found himself lost in thought. He had decided to surprise Abby with something special, but he wasn't sure yet how, when, and where he wanted to do it. Sunday morning he wandered in the gardens while Abby still slept, choosing a flower here and there and placing them in a glass of water he had borrowed from the kitchen. He then gave the glass to the men's group leader, Walker, to hold until later in the day. Walker knew about the surprise and highly approved.

***

The banquet was over; people were standing around talking, but Gibbs was anxious to leave. "Are you ready, Abbs? We need to pack our things and check out."

"What's the hurry, Jethro? I want to say goodbye to our friends," she replied, with a bit of irritation in her voice.

He was frustrated because he couldn't explain or it would spoil the surprise. But he managed to sound nonchalant. "How about I go ahead and you meet me in ten minutes?"

"Okay. Do you want to pinky swear?"

He chuckled. "Sure, Abbs." After the pinky swearing, he kissed her lightly and, unbeknownst to her, headed for Walker's room.

After collecting the flowers, he went back to their suite, beginning to feel the same fear he'd always felt before. But if he'd done it then, he certainly could do it now for Abby. _'Suck it up, Marine,'_ he told himself. '_You can do it.'_

He checked that the ice around the champagne hadn't melted yet. He walked to the window, gazed out at a nearby mountain, glanced at his watch, then returned to the ice. It wasn't melting, as far as he could tell; had time actually stopped? Was fate going to cut him off just before he could act?

Finally he heard the beep of the electronic lock and Abby stepped inside. She saw the champagne first. "Hey Jethro, we got champagne! Did you order it?"

He stepped out of the adjoining dressing room, the flowers held tightly behind his back as he walked towards her. His mouth felt far too dry to produce words, but he heard himself say, "I did, Abbs."

"Are we celebrating this weekend? Good idea because –"

With one hand he gently covered her mouth to prevent more talking, with the other he presented her with the flowers.

He was pleased to hear her gasp. "Jethro! When did you do this? They're beautiful. Thank you so much!" She threw her arms around his neck and he had to chuckle, since she apparently had no idea what he was leading up to.

"Abby," he said gently, disentangling himself from her arms.

She raised her head from his shoulder, eyes wide. "Yes, Jethro?"

"Abby –" he began again, struggling to find the words he had so carefully planned out.

"What is it?" A chill engulfed her, and she felt deeply afraid. "Jethro – no –"

He knew her fear, and it finally pushed the words from his mouth. "Will you marry me, Abby?"

Her chill was replaced with warmth and comfort, and she smiled up at him. "No, sweetheart."

He stared at her, unable to believe that she had turned him down. But just before his heart teetered over into the abyss, she slowly winked and added, "But you can ask me again in a week."

He let out the breath he had been holding, almost sobbing with relief but turning it into a laugh instead. "My goth girl," he whispered, holding her tightly, "you will most definitely be the death of me."

_Epilogue_

When the conference was over, the couples drove home and everything went mostly back to normal, although everyone did notice some changes.

Tuesday afternoon, when it was getting close to time to go, Ziva went over to Tony's desk and asked if he would be interested in taking her to a movie that she wanted to see that evening.

"And I'm completely serious this time; I'm not lying," she said. "I want to see this movie and I want to see it with you. So, are we going?"

After they had left, Gibbs was looking out into the parking lot. To his surprise, he saw Tony's car. With Ziva getting into the driver's seat. She had to pull to get the keys out of Tony's hand, but he allowed her to get in and start driving. Gibbs smiled; he was glad the conference had been so helpful to them, too. Then he had to laugh. When they got to the edge of the parking lot, the car stopped and Tony took over the driving. But at least he was trying.

On Wednesday, midmorning, Abby appeared in the squad room, looking relatively calm. "Hello, Abby," Ziva acknowledged.

"What's up, Abbs?" asked Tony.

She ignored both of them; instead she climbed on a chair and whistled loudly. "Everybody pay attention! I have something important to say!"

"Is it about Bert?" asked Tony.

"Or leaving your cupcake alone?" McGee grinned.

She frowned at each of them. "No, it's much more serious!"

By this time most of the employees were actually watching her, curious as to what she would do this time. Even Gibbs looked up from his paperwork with a tolerant smile. She looked at him and held his gaze, so that he wouldn't look back down.

"I want to say, where everyone can hear, that I have a proposal to make." Stepping down from the chair, she walked towards him. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs, will you marry me?"

He stood up and met her halfway, looking at her tenderly. "You know I will," he told her. To ease the lump forming in his throat, he pulled her close and kissed her. In the hullabaloo that followed, very few people actually watched _them_. "You're a wicked tease," Gibbs whispered in her ear.

"Yeah," she said happily.

Suddenly her face filled with wonder and she gasped. "Oh my God, I'm getting _married_!"

the end

A/N: Stay tuned for _Bridezilla Abby_!


End file.
